Singing in voices that could be described as Satan after the cable TV gets cut off and Ozzy after realizing he's not on cable TV anymore, Type O offer all types of slow, crushing anthemic tunes that deal with things that are never too happy. Something tells me you could feed these guys Prozac and they still wouldn't have a brighter day. They'd complain about sunburn. Music for bats, for sure.
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Some guys have all the luck--just that it's all bad. In the glass half-empty or half-full dilemma, the fellas in Type O are the type to simply break the glass and say it wasn't worth keeping anyway. The kind of guys high-school guidance counselors look over at and figure if they can just send them over to Vo-Tech without too much hassle (in other words, without them killing anyone), then great! Another successful guided tour out of high school.